


A Mystrade Birthday

by DataTrekker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Breakfast, Fluff, M/M, Nudity, Romance, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DataTrekker/pseuds/DataTrekker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end all hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage. And no matter how hard he tried not to care he couldn't help it, Lestrade has that kind of impact on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mystrade Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote for my friends birthday. Fluffy is definitely not my division.

It’s a clear, cool night. The usually close curtains are drawn back, revealing the starry night and the magnificence view over of the immaculately kept garden. A large sigh. 

He forgot. 

Again.

Nothing too out of the usual, he always has so much on his mind but you think he would remember this. _This_ for Christ’s sake. Who forgets their lover’s birthday? Not even a mention. It should not crush me so but it does. For all his speeches about normality and he forgets that normal people celebrate their close one’s birthdays. I have never cared for such a thing but being with Gregory makes one hope for some semblance of normality, that he will indulge me with all the adorably trivial events that a couple experience and that a Holmes almost always avoids. 

And he didn’t even text me ‘Happy Birthday.’

The- I try so hard but I suppose I should not expect a level of Holmesian memory from him but it is, nevertheless, upsetting. Is it too much to ask that he at least remember? He had been moody all day, maybe something is wrong. Work perhaps? Nothing at his work seems troublesome, no particularly cruel cases, nothing grotesque or atypical. Yet he has been refusing to talk to me all day. He had working rather hard today, maybe to get work out of the way to surprise me? 

A snort of derision. 

Mycroft eyed the reddening horizon. It’s five am, hardly a time throw me a late surprise. Where the hell is he? He is not at work like he claimed. Lying to me. He is not anywhere as far as we can tell. Hmm. He is probably inside the house, sleeping in another bedroom. Why? I do not know that I have done nothing wrong, maybe he does not expect me to be human enough to want to be cherished on the day of my birth. He probably remembered far too late and felt guilty. 

In the end all lives must end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage. 

Mycroft laid in the large, empty bed. Sulking. Such a nasty Holmes trait, to never speak out. To suffer in silence, that should be the Holmes mantra. He scowled at the view, what a beautiful sight to share alone. Far too proud to say he’s upset. Far too mechanic not to think it over. Far too human to let it go. The stagnant silence was interrupted by the creaking of the floorboards. Frowning he sat up. 

The steps were heavy, too heavy to be Gregory’s. One of the guards, they move in swift silence unless in an emergency. Emergency? All is quiet on the front, nothing so rash is planned that the guards would feel the need to wake me.  
Mycroft is quick to eliminate all possibilities until only the Detective Inspector is left. He’s out of bed and getting dressed into a clean suit by the time the guard is entering the room. 

“Sir, it’s-“

“I know.” Mycroft replied, expressionless as he slips on his jacket and straightens his tie. “Where?”

“The study.” The study? That is unexpected. 

“A ransom call?” Has he gone and got himself kidnapped like the damsel he is? Mycroft wanted to add, a slight smile crossing his face at the idea of Lestrade being a damsel in distress. Fully clothed the guard escorted Mycroft outside his room and down the stairs. A guard outside my bedroom door as well? 

“Why was I not alerted sooner?”

“We’ve just received the information sir, it seems the Detective Inspector was up to something.” It took a considerable amount of will not to lash out and strike the man. Very few things could anger Mycroft; under torture that pushed and pulled his body beyond any known limits he wasn’t as angry as he was right now at the mere idea of Lestrade doing something traitorous. Naturally the rest of the world saw the icy face of a cold hearted killer but he raged inside, even if it was a brief moment of unrelenting, unmitigated, anger Mycroft was sure it was intense enough to cause enough harm to enough people that he should never let the emotion of anger flare inside of him for more than a moment. A nod in reply and he continued. Calm, Mycroft, he told himself.

“Where is he?”

“In the study. Brace yourself.” The guard added. Mycroft trusted his employee’s judgements so when they add something like that when they rarely say anything to him outside of answers Mycroft’s confidence is a little shaken. Another composed nod as they arrived at the study. Quickly the guard assumed his place, standing upright next to the door. Swallowing hard and ignoring all irrational voices in his mind he swung the door open to a dark room. Completely dark in fact. The room had no windows, for obvious reasons, but there was ample lighting available.

“Close the door.” Lestrade, he noted, was talking in serious tone. Such a cold, commanding voice does not become you he thought. Mycroft closed the door, amazingly keeping control of himself despite all of these dangerous emotions flaring up inside of himself. 

“Gregory.” Neutral tone. 

“Mycroft, darling, turn on the light.” His voice was softer now, much sweeter. Must be because I closed the door. What on Earth has he done now? Mycroft clicked the light on and the room was flooded with a light yellow hue. They both blinked for a few seconds then Mycroft heard something rather unsettling, something he wasn’t expecting, Lestrade laughing.

“Okay I admit it the lights weren’t my best idea.”  
In all this life Mycroft was rarely speechless, able to talk to anyone about anything, he was never the type to be surprised or to be caught off guard. He’d clearly met his match with Detective Inspector Lestrade. Mycroft could do little else but stare at Lestrade, confused, angry but also happy and so relieved. Lestrade just grinned cheekily, rather pleased with himself and with Mycroft’s reaction.

“Gregory…” He eventually spoke, standing still and eyeing the man who had just played an incredibly cruel but smart trick on Mycroft. 

“Well darlin’ what do you think?” A smirking Lestrade was sitting on Mycroft’s desk, completely naked save for a black ribbon tied around his most initiate part. Lestrade went quiet to give Mycroft the chance to survey the room.

There was a small table for two set up in the middle of the room. Two fine china plates had freshly cooked waffles on them, smothered in creamy chocolate. A bowl of exquisite crystal sat in the centre of the table, filled with perfectly ripe summer fruits. Two wine glasses were filled with Mycroft’s favourite summer ice tea. A silver trolley stood beside the table and was filled sweets and cakes. Everything was so… warm. Light colours, beautiful food, it’s what Mycroft imagined picnics for couples are like. Well beside the naked part. He couldn’t help but grin at Lestrades form, who was standing up on full display for him. There was really nothing but him, just _him_ , there. Just the Gregory who he assumed forgot. The Gregory who pulled the wool over Mycrofts jaded eyes and took it away to give him what he wanted, a loving surprise to remind him that it’s okay, every once in a while, to throw out all those old codes he stuck by and just be happy for a while.

“I really had you going there for a bit, didn’t I?” A hearty laugh. That happy, genuinely happy, laugh came from Lestrade and it warmed Mycroft in the way only his Detective Inspector could do it. “Of course I didn’t forget! Happy Birthday, dear.” Mycroft just shook his head in disbelief and amusement. “You must’ve been so worried! Sorry for making you wait but I wanted this to be a _proper_ surprise. The guards even played along, it took a _lot_ of effort to convince them you wouldn’t fire them. Really though, happy birthday, Mycroft."


End file.
